Perpetually Human
by mont-blank
Summary: Night for Mrs. Hughes after an eventful day in Thirsk.
1. Potentially Lovely

Elsie placed the last of her hairpins on the vanity, and savored the sensation of running the brush through her hair. She thought of Beryl, and how worried she herself had been over nothing. Of course Beryl was stronger than that, of course she would never let a man break her down. Elsie so admired Beryl for the way nothing fazed her; she simply brushed off any possible complication. She envied her deeply, because lately she was scraping the bottom of the barrel for strength.

She kept forgetting herself around Mr. Carson, kept forgetting that in spite of the intimate friendship they shared he would never want to be truly close to her. She set the brush down and looked at her reflection. Her hair looked greyer today, and her wrinkles deeper; she looked the way she felt. She was sad and she was tired. She was so very tired of loving such a stupid man. He may not be in love with her as she was with him, but she would appreciate it if he wouldn't be so unkind about it. She knew he didn't mean to be unkind, that he was just not the type that dealt well with these sorts of emotions, but his coldness hurt just the same.

He would open up to her, and let her see his heart, and then when she tried to move closer he would snap shut again and reprimand her. Thinking about it now, in the quiet of her room, it made her furious. How could he be so very contrary? Could he honestly not know that it hurt? Could he really be oblivious to her affection? She laughed and nearly sobbed, because she knew that the answer was yes; yes he could be. She didn't know if he was, but he most certainly might be. He was a silly old-fashioned fool; it wouldn't surprise her in the least.

She had bought some dried lavender at the fair so that she could put it on her bedside table; the scent soothed her, and she would need that tonight. She looked though her pockets, but didn't see it. She stopped when she remembered that she had taken it out downstairs, and it was sitting on her desk. She sighed with disappointment, as much she didn't want to go downstairs, she wanted her lavender even more. Small comforts were everything on a night like this. She mustered the willpower to make the journey, and got up and left before she changed her mind. She was so determined in her goal that she forgot her dressing gown on the way out.

In her white night gown she made her way down the many flights of stairs, and to her sitting room. She picked up her little package of lavender and lifted it to her nose. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, taking a moment to luxuriate in this small pleasure.

"Mrs. Hughes?" came a very surprised voice from the doorway. Her eyes snapped open. She felt somewhat embarrassed to have been caught indulging so deeply.

"Yes, Mr. Carson. Is there anything I can do for you?"

He stood still, looking quite embarrassed, and wearing nightclothes himself, looking rather less dignified in a dressing gown.

"What on earth are you doing down here in such a state of undress?"

She was about to be offended until she realized that she was standing in front of him in only a sheath of thin white fabric. She was fairly confident that it wasn't see through, but all the same it was not enough to be proper. She felt her cheeks flush, and found that she had no real reply to that. She simply looked down at herself to double check that the fabric was as opaque as she thought it was (yes), and looked back at him, waiting now for the incredulous statement she knew he had ready.

"What is someone had been down here? What if one of the footmen had seen you?" She nearly laughed out loud at the thought

"What a terrible shock it would have been for them. "

"This may be funny to you, Mrs. Hughes, but I assure you that a woman's modesty is no laughing matter. I shouldn't have thought I'd need to remind _you_ of that."

"Oh, Mr. Carson, you can calm down, I'm not looking to corrupt anyone. I just forgot to grab my dressing gown on my way out of my room. And besides, I didn't think anyone else would still be up."

"Well do try not to forget again. We don't need anyone thinking Ethel got her ideas about alternative employment under your instruction."

She meant to roll her eyes, to sigh in utter exasperation, she meant to do anything but sob. She heard the sound before she knew she had made it, suddenly her face was burning hot, and her vision obscured by tears. She clapped a hand over her mouth instantly, in attempt to stifle her sounds. She hadn't felt the rush of emotion building up, but it crashed over her now like a tidal wave. She was so very angry with him for his thoughtlessness, for his pigheadedness, for his _utter stupidity. _And she was so very embarrassed; she was embarrassed to be standing in front of him in so little clothing, to be the punch line of his crass commentary, and to be in love with a man who now seemed to think so little of her.

She could not make it stop so she quit trying. She was past the point of no return, she was humiliated, and he had been the one to do it, and now he would bear witness to it. She did not care how uncomfortable her lack of composure would make him. He'd made a mess of her, and she could sense him cringing because of it. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, but she knew that he'd be standing in the corner, trying to find a delicate way to tell her to suck it up. Trying to make ridiculousness clear to her and yet spare her inferior, woman's sensibilities from further harm. She began to hate him as she stood there. It had been not quite a minute that she'd been standing, facing away from him, clutching her desk with one hand, and her face with other, trying to steady herself somewhat when she felt his hand.


	2. Perpetually Human

The sound hit him like a knife in his heart. He didn't know why he had said that; it was out of line, and unnecessarily cruel. Mrs. Hughes was the most respectable sort of woman, and she did not deserve to be spoken to in that manner. Had anyone else been the one to say such a horrible thing to her he'd have wanted them shot. He watched in horror as her small shoulders slumped and shook with her sobs.

He stood in shock for a few moments, unable to take in what he was seeing. Something in him couldn't register that the woman in front of him was Mrs. Hughes, his Mrs. Hughes. His Mrs. Hughes was made of sterner stuff than this, she would just humor him and then ignore whatever he said like she always did. Why was everything changed now? She knew him better than that didn't she? She knew he didn't mean it, she must; she must know that his every rebuff was to protect them, the both of them. He always tried to hide it, of course, but he had believed that she knew.

Perhaps she didn't. Perhaps he had succeeded in making her believe that the idea of being close to her was in some way a repellent one. The thought made his heart ache, and his stomach tighten. Without a further thought he had closed the distance between and pulled her to his chest. She seemed like she might fight him for a moment, but she did allow him to embrace her. He cradled her head with one hand, and her back with the other. She leaned into him, but did not embrace him; she simply allowed his arms to wrap around her. Holding her close like this, he was overtaken by the softness of her; during the day she was all clean lines, stiff posture, and hard angles, but the woman in his arms now was a soft, delicate creature. She was so vulnerable, and he was loath to admit it, but he found it beautiful.

If he were honest with himself would admit that this was something he wanted. Well, not exactly this. The few times he had allowed himself the luxury of fantasy she had not been in his arms crying. She should know better than to take him seriously. He was quite sure she had never taken him seriously before. So why should tonight be different? "Why are you so upset?" The words came out before he could think of how they'd sound to her.

She pushed him away and looked at him in shock and disgust. Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. Had he been able to think clearly, he would have thought this a rather odd time to find himself struck speechless by her beauty, but that was just the case. Her shining brown locks and one streak of grey, unbraided and falling softy over her shoulders, her frame draped in nothing but white cloth, fire in her eyes; she was stunning. He was so mesmerized by her beauty that he barely noticed her raise her hand until it struck him hard across the face.

"Even you can't be that stupid!"

With one hand he cupped his now burning cheek "That isn't how I meant it- What is that supposed to mean?"

"Then how did you mean it?" she demanded, still raging.

"What did you mean '_even I _can't be that stupid?' "

"Mr. Carson, I've asked you a question, and you _will _answer it."

He knew she was right to demand her answer first, he knew he should back down, he knew that taking them any further down this path would be ruinous. It didn't stop him. He lowered his hand and stood at his full height to counter her "I believe my question was asked first."


	3. Suspended and Open

"I meant" she seethed "that you are one of the most stubborn, pigheaded, silly men I have ever m" She was silenced by a crushing kiss. One large hand tangled itself in her hair. Her eyes went wide and she attempted to shove his chest and continue yelling at him, but found herself grasping fistfuls of his pyjamas and pulling him closer. Her eyes slid shut and her body seemed to meld into the contours of his. She wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but she was so happy that she dared not question it. Not right now. Not with his lips on hers, not with his hands on her body (his other hand, of course, remaining respectfully on her shoulder).

With her soft lips pressed to his, and her silken hair in his hand he tried to think. Tried to think of an excuse, a reason, anything to explain himself when she pulled away and slapped him again as he expected her to. But she didn't. She didn't pull away, and she didn't slap him again. He thought she was going to shove him, but then he felt her fingers clutch at the fabric of his pyjamas and lost the ability to think at all.

She had begun to erode his resolve with her first tear, and the last little bit had finally snapped when he saw her fire. Her hair hanging loose in large curls around her face, the way her eyes glittered with her ferocity, the way her nostrils flared when she got angry. He had been building a wall between them for years, and tonight, with one unwitting shove, she had toppled it. He wanted so much, he wanted to run his fingers down the length of her body, to take in every curve in this rare corset free encounter. He wanted to feel the softness of her flesh in his hands, her warmth on his skin, her breath on his neck. He imagined lifting her nightdress and exploring her ivory skin, finding out if reality would match fantasy. He imagined finally knowing the taste of the little hollow between her collarbones, and he felt that if he tried she might let him, she might be apprehensive, but she just might let him.

He couldn't allow himself to try. He would be attempting to take advantage of a woman in a vulnerable state. For all he knew she would wake up the next morning ashamed of her indiscretion, and loathe him. And he would loathe himself. It was just as well that she pulled away from him again. She looked into his eyes with the same scolding look she gave to ill behaved maids "Don't you think for one second that this means I'm not angry with you, Mr. Carson."

Nothing in the world could have made him love her more in that moment. He smiled at her and leaned in for another kiss, but she surprised him again by backing away. "I mean it." The tears were back in her voice, though not in her eyes yet. "If you feel this way why must you always push me away?"

Mr. Carson sighed and looked at her shoulder because he could not bear to look at the heartbreak on her face. She was pulling back into sobering reality, forcing him to examine his motivations, and he found himself pulling his hands away from her.

He dropped his hands to his sides and there was a long silence before he found the strength to speak again. When he spoke again his voice was small and strained "Because we can't do this, Mrs. Hughes." He found her eyes, but she tore her gaze away instantly. She instantly felt embarrassed, and very sad again. She'd been foolish again. "The family" he continued, those words building up instant rage in her heart "need me, Mrs. Hughes. I know you think I'm a silly old fool, getting sentimental about the wrong things, but they do need us both. This is a very hard time for them, and you and I both know that they rely on us much more than they realize." He waited for her to respond; he knew she'd have something to say to that. He saw a million thoughts flicker across her expression, but she said nothing. She looked at him and waited for him to continue.

"They've been the subject of quite enough gossip for a long while, and I couldn't bear being the cause of more. Do you see, Mrs. Hughes, there is no option left to me. I cannot leave, and I cannot have what I want, that is just for me, and stay. I made a commitment to them, when the girls were born, that I would be here as long as they needed me. I know you don't love them, Mrs. Hughes. I know that, but I know you know that I do. However silly it makes me, and however little you respect me because of it, it is the truth."

"Do you not love me, then?" The words were out before she'd had time to think about them. She hated them. Those words made her sound weak, pliable to his whims. She didn't mean them that way; she was just so tired of all of this ambiguity, so very exhausted with uncertainty.

"I am not allowed to love you, Mrs. Hughes."

The formal address once again, in this tender moment, clanged in her ears like someone banging on a brass pot. She stood up straight, folded her hands over one another, and steeled her expression.

"I see. Then I believe we've nothing more to discuss, Mr. Carson. I'll say goodnight." She stepped around him and without a second look left him alone in her sitting room.

As much as it stung to hear her say it, and though everything in him screamed for him to reach for her, to stop her, and kiss her again, he knew that this was a kindness. She was sparing him further risk, further compromise, further reason to question his decision. She was letting him have things his way, and it couldn't have hurt him more.

* * *

I do believe that this is where the story ends for now.


End file.
